She Drives Me Crazy(33)

“It sucks you had to see that. She could have done that somewhere private. She knows you’re here.”

I drop my head into my hands, tugging at the roots of my hair. “She was watching me for my reaction.”

“I know. I saw her.”

“Thora thinks she’s manipulative,” I admit.

“No shit. It’s almost like she gets off on it or something.” She snorts derisively, sounding more like herself again. “Fucking weirdo.”

Without meaning to, I laugh.

“To be fair, though,” Irene says, and her voice changes to something more serious, “you were trying to manipulate her, too. She just got there first.”

I glare at her. “So you are gloating.”

“No. I’m trying to point out that this competition isn’t going to make you happy.”

“Since when do you care about my happiness?”

“Don’t be such a victim, Zajac. I’ve been playing this girlfriend role with you for a month now. I’m allowed to make observations.”

I exhale and turn away from her. I can’t even begin to consider whether this “competition” is still worth it; I’m in too deep now. But I’ve clearly underestimated Tally. It doesn’t matter how carefully I set up my shot: She will always hit the basket first.

“It might cheer you up to know that Tally is either really drunk or really high, or potentially both,” Irene says. “She had her grubby paws on everything in the kitchen. Literally pushed me out of the way to grab the tortilla chips.”

“So?”

“So maybe she doesn’t even like that girl. She’s just messed up right now.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Irene watches me out of the corner of her eye. I can feel her piercing stare. Part of me wishes she would stop. The other part is just grateful to have someone out here with me.

Irene takes a long sip of her water. We’re both quiet. The air is biting.

“Let’s mess with her,” Irene declares.

I look over at her. “What?”

Her eyes are narrowed. There’s a gleam in them. “Yeah,” she says, more to herself than to me. “I’ve got an idea.”



* * *



Inside, we find my friends hovering in the hallway. Irene wastes no time in marching up to them.

“Gunther,” she says, and he freezes. “Where did you put those garlic sticks?”

He points wordlessly to the pile of jackets in the corner. The Partridge box sits on top of them. Irene opens it, wrinkles her nose, and walks away.

“What is she—?” Gunther stammers.

We follow her around the corner, back into the kitchen. Just as Irene said, Tally is standing there, munching away on a bag of pretzels. Her eyes are glazed over, but she looks up when Irene enters with the garlic sticks.

“What are those?” Tally blurts out.

Irene turns to her, feigning surprise. “Garlic sticks. Why?”

Tally’s eyes light up. “Can I have some?”

Irene sets the box on the counter and steps in front of it like a lioness guarding her pack. “No, I don’t think so,” she says with fake sweetness. “They’re not mine. I don’t know if I’m allowed to give them out.”

I know Tally well enough to understand what a delicious challenge this is for her. Not only because someone is trying to deprive her of something, but because that someone is a popular girl she’s resented for a long time.

“Really,” Tally says dryly. Her hatred for Irene practically crackles on the air. “And who put you on guard duty?”

Irene shrugs. “I just like to play by the rules. Don’t you?”

My heartbeat quickens. It’s a showdown like the Wild West, and the crazy thing is, I want Irene to win.

Tally lunges around her and grabs a garlic stick. Irene pretends to be affronted, but I don’t think the fury in her eyes is fake.

“Mmm,” Tally says, chowing down. She cocks her head. “I can see why you were hoarding them.”

“Yeah, you can see right through me,” Irene says coolly. She turns and stalks off, but not before catching my eye.

Tally eats another garlic stick before she licks the crumbs off her fingers and struts back to the center of the party. My friends and I watch intently, trying to figure out what’s supposed to happen next. Where was Irene going with this?

And then, as Tally slithers up to the pretty girl she was making out with earlier, it hits me.

“Oh shit—”

Tally leans in to kiss the girl again. For a blistering moment they’re wrapped together, mouths open, Tally devouring her, and then—

“AUGH!” the girl gags, rearing backward. She covers her mouth with her hand.

Tally looks stricken. She tries to say something in the girl’s ear.

“Back off!” the girl says, lunging away from her. “God, that smell!”

The whole party is watching now. A bunch of people are laughing; one girl has her phone out to record the humiliation. Some guy yells, “Come on, Gibson, brush your teeth for once!”

Tally freezes, mortified, before turning on her heel and fleeing the room. I watch with my mouth hanging open, dazzled by the brilliance of Irene’s scheme.